Fifty shades of Garfield
by Loodlelood
Summary: Kill me, please.
1. Chapter 1

Fifty Shades of Please Fucking Kill Me.

Garfield could restrain the passion in his loins no longer, and soon found himself Garfielding his Garfield. With Garfields filled with fire, he looked passionately into Garfield's Garfield. Grasping his lover's Garfields, Garfield sent waves of Garfield running through Garfield's body. Garfield pushed away from Garfield, his Garfield dangling freely in the moonlit midnight breeze, and stared ashamedly.

"You can't just expect us to Garfield, not after what you've Garfielded."

Garfield seemed distant, uncaring even, and lurched forward once more towards Garfield. Trying to resist, Garfield finally relented. Garfield was mystified, and could not help but wish to explore the kinds of Garfield a Garfield could give.

"I've never Garfielded with a Garfield before."

Positioning Garfield's Garfield at an angle, Garfield began to Garfield upwards. Garfield began to produce copious amounts of pre-Garfield upon exposure to the welcoming Garfield. Garfielding with the might of a Norse Garfield, Garfield Garfielded where no Garfield had gone before.

"I am the bone of my Garfield. Steel is my Garfield, and fire is my Garfield. And so I pray, Unlimited Garfield Works!" Intoned Garfield, as a thousand Garfields erupted from his volcanic Garfield.

Kill me please, do it while I can still feel. I want to die human.


	2. Chapter 2

I Long For Death: Beyond Garfield.

The sun set over the green fields of the Illinois town of Rockford, and Garfield looked over his Garfields with a melancholic expression. A deep feeling of regret swelled within his Garfield, and he could only look back on his better days of Garfielding with Garfield, now long past. His solemn reflection was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of a familiar Garfield. Garfield looked to this former friend. Garfield not stand the sight of this dastardly Garfield, who had used Garfields Garfield for his own Garfieldy purposes. There was no respite for Garfield. Not here. Garfield's eyes surrendered to his inner pain, and tears streaked down his masculine face. Garfield let out the years of fear, pain, and insecurity that Garfield had put him through.

"Garfield, it would seem that you are ready to assume your r-"

Shock. All that Garfield could feel at the interruption was pure unadulterated shock. Garfield had never had it in him to defy Garfield in such a manner, but now he found Garfield fighting back with an unknown passion. The feelings fostered by years of abuse filled Garfield with a resolve he had never known, and he stood his ground. Garfield was taken aback y this development, as he had planned on resuming his prior engagements with lover, Garfield.

"I will NEVER allow another to go through the hell that is a relationship with you!"

"N-NANI?!"

With tears flying off into the wind, Garfield prepared his Garfielding Garfield of Garfield's Garfield, and flew at Garfield. With a mighty crash his Garfield technique collided with Garfield, whose arms had adopted a cross-guard stance. The attack was great, but Garfield withstood the impact. The Garfield exploded with a burst of Garfield, and swirls of Garfield streaked across the air. The sunlight caught these wisps of Garfield, coloring them in crimson and golden hues. Garfield flew backwards, grass staining his back, and he stood ready to deliver his own counter attack. Grasping his wrist, he focused his Garfield into his fist. Now enveloped in a wreath of black Garfield, Garfield sprung at his foe. His Garfield coated fist collided with the pure Garfield of Garfield's soul. From the clash a great aura of Garfield spread to coat the land. The two lovers turned floated motionless in the Garfield space, and they were presented with a sight neither had seen in a long time. Their first meeting in that quiet mountain town all those years ago. They were younger then, and more open to their feelings. They their first time making Garfield on the shores of that cold lake, warmed only by their passion. What had changed to twist their once pure love? They saw their first true embrace on that cold and sandy shore, as the water touching the land began to frost over. They had not minded the cold, as their love burned hotter than any sun.

How strange that even the purest of love could find itself broken by the patient weathering of time.

When this vision passes Garfield found himself staring at the motionless form of Garfield.

He walked along his lonesome path as the tears of a broken man streaked down his face.


	3. Chapter 3

"Where the Garfield wind blows, I shall find him." Garfield Garfielded Garfieldingly.

It had been four years since Garfield Garfielded Garfield after Garfield revealed himself to Garfield once more. Garfield's bitterness towards Garfield had grown in the Garfields they spent apart, and these feelings drove Garfield to denounce the Garfield of Garfield. He had withstood Garfield's Garfield long enough, and so he Garfielded back. In his Garfield Garfield had Garfielded Garfield. It was something he would never be able to take back.

Garfield now trekked across the desert wastes of Australia, his feet displacing the Garfield he stepped upon. The windswept sand was a biting sensation as the grains of Garfield dug into Garfield's Garfield, yet Garfield would endure. Garfield looked up towards the starry night sky, the array of Garfields shining brilliantly in the Garfield of the night. Garfield nearly lost himself in their beauty. The beauty of celestial bodies that would forever cast their loving gaze upon the world. The brilliantly gleaming Garfields in the Garfield Garfield Garfielded their Garfield upon the Garfield upon which Garfield Garfieldishly Garfielded, Garfielding back on Garfields Garfield. The light of the Garfields was otherworldly. Their sickly green light shifted and twirled into shapes akin to the indescribable letters of some unknowable horror's script. The winds whispered sweet G̫̙a̻͓̬̻̖r̬͍̰̬͔̲̮f̟̼̘̫i͙eld̥͈͍̮̣͓s̞̲̥̫̦̣ to Garfield. Sweet, sweet Garfields which wrapped around the mind and heart and body and soul and life and death and Garfield and Garfield. The uncountable Garfields that made up the Garfield shifter erratically. Garfield rolled his Garfields back into their sockets so that he Garfield gaz upon the Garfield that had taken root in the Garfield of life. Garfield was as Garfield, and the Garfields on high above whispered the secrets of Garfield and Garfield. Secrets telling of a Garfield born in the time before Garfield, back when Garfield was before time, but it was Garfield always so, for once There was a lone star drifting in a sea of song that played from the maw of unaccountable nothings. These were not the Garfields of the days after, whose song was sang in tones of Garfield, but rather the Garfields of Garfield before. I saw them on that mountain.

People Garfield that they there's nothing out there that can't be explained. If Garfield were true then I wouldn't have Garfielded the only Garfield that gave a Ga͍̦͔̼r̭̟͓͍f̭͔i͈͔̟̯̥e̙̟ͅl̻̜͚d̖ about me. I still see her, Garfields Garfieͅḻ̮̯̺d͎̱e͎̪͎̙̹̣̼d̼͉ ̖̪͖̟͙̰i̼͙̦n̯̦͔̭̤̦ ͈̟̯̳͉̗a̞̳ng̖͖l̹͖͍eș̻͔͖ ͇G̝̩̜̠͖̼a̭̭͈̼͍r̟̘̳̺̻̜̩f̜i̮̘̭̩ͅe̙̙͖͇̞͓̯l̟͚d͓̼͓̜s̘͔̮̘͔ ͕͓͍͚w̙̘͖̭̬̲e̻̩̗̣͙̰r̬̠̰̪̮͈͖e̟̱n̲̣͕̤'t̤̞̺̥ ͍G̩͈a̜̹̬̪͇rf̬̘̠̭̩i̻̤̪e̬͙̯̱̻̭̱l̦͎̥͚d̺̰ ̭̩͖̩̩a̟̬͉n̩d͖̥̩̳̳͚ ͔̗͔̣̤͍ͅs̘͎̻͙͕o ̝t͈̫̯̜̰͎h̜̝̪̥e̺̮̤̣͇̭r̖͔e͈͓͓ ̲̳̜͕͎̰n̲̹̲̺̹͙̙e̫̙̰͖̫v͈̗̻̤̟͓er̪͕̠̤̥̤͎ ̭̘̞̙̬͖w̺̩a̠̟̹̥̰͎s͈̟̼͈̰͓̩ o̬̩̯̝ͅn͔̟e̪̱ ͚̼̬͉̼̤̱s̥͈͙͎u͈̥̝̲̰̦͓c͍͙͕͔̺̣ḥ̩̬̜̪ ͖̞͉̲̘̩as ̲̜͇̞t͓̹̝̘ͅhis͍̘̯͎͖͔̥ ͓͍̞̦͍̼f̠̥ͅa̖̥̪̲͍̱̲l͎͖̦̲s͚͈e̠͎̻͕ ̺p̤̞̱̪e̪͕͖̤r͙̙̺̞s̗̠̙o̥͉n͉͇ͅ who never was. I can't see er because she never was there. She was never there. She was never there. She was never there. I don't believe you don't

Garfield is the Garfield way

But Garfield sees as the Garfield do

Garfield is as Garfield was

Garfield was the Garfield true

There can't be stars where the light can't penetrate.

There is a Garfield.

I heard songs coming from the lake They were beautiful without the context of thought I just can't shake that feeling of hearing Garfield is the Garfield way But Garfield sees as the Garfield do Garfield is as Garfield was Garfield was the Garfield true

The genetic variation exhibited in a species may seem as though a miracle, but take into consideration two sheets of paper. Both white, both square. Now imagine a strip is cut from both. Strip A, and strip B. Strip A is left as is, stained only by the passage of time. Then take strip B, and imagine the individual cutting the strip giving to the strip an alteration. Let us say that this alteration is that it ripped the strip in two. Let us say that one half is folded into strange shapes that defy the 2D form, and that the other half is soaked in the being's blood and mashed into several strands and balls. These two of course are then recombined into something that no longer resembles a sheet of paper. This is what it means to glimpse that which humanity was never meant to glimpse.


End file.
